


Cullen One Shots

by Oh_Shiny



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Childhood Memories, Dom/sub Play, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friendly Sparring, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Orlesian Balls, Smut, So.. About the Hero of Ferelden..., Wise Old Laundry Ladies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:26:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Shiny/pseuds/Oh_Shiny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a collection of one shots centered around Cullen and the Inquisitor.<br/>Some are funny :)<br/>Some are sad :(<br/>Some will be smut :D<br/>And some just are :| </p><p>This was all written before the games release.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Cullen finds himself in the Skyhold laundry room and learns a couple of things he never knew about some of his companions.

This... This was certainly not the way to the kitchens. Damn that Qunari and his incoherent drunken ramblings! Cullen huffed out a breath and frowned at his surroundings while inhaling the unmistakable scent of soap, were those... were those his small clothes? They were! And those were there... those were not his small clothes. He felt his cheeks warm as he peered across the room at the pretty white pair with small pink blotches beside his own, flapping gently in the breeze that entered through the open archways. No, they were not his, not at all. But they were someone's. Cullen, at the worst of times, was a curious man and as he continued to stare the pink spots started to take shape and he inched closer to properly make them out.

 

Love hearts? Which of his companions could possibly be sporting a pair of smalls littered with love hearts.

 

"Can I help you, young man?"

 

Cullen jumped, startled by the husky scratching voice that sounded behind him. He turned his head slowly - cheeks burning more than he thought them capable of - and came face to face with a scraggly looking old woman.

 

"Likes looking at thems up there underthings do ya?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

 

"I, uh, no. Not particularly. I was... I was just seeing if mine were dry," he stammered in his lie while rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

The old woman grunted and dropped the basket that she held at her hip to the ground. "Liar," she said with a small smile twitching along her lips. "Well, since you're downs here you can helps an old woman out. Don't likes to bends too much you see, there's a good lad."

 

Cullen stood stiffly as she eyed him up and down. "Don't worry your pretty little head boy, I ain't telling no one thats you were downs here looking at their intimates."

 

He gave a shudder. Maker, she made him sound so indecent. It wasn't as if he had come down here for that reason after all, but who was he to argue with an old woman? He crouched, grabbed a damp item from the basket with averted eyes and handed it to the woman.

 

"You can tells a lot about someone by their intimates, you know," she stated as her wrinkled hands pegged the clothing to the line.

 

"Your ones for example..." Cullen cut her off, "how do you know which ones are mine?" he asked.

 

She snorted. "It's obvious. Practical, very practical. Nothing flashy and they are the sames color as thems crimson clothing you wears alls the time. Matching, keeping order, just hows you likes it."

 

Cullen stared at her stunned, how... how could she possibly know all of this from his smalls?

 

She smirked and her eyes twinkled with mischief. "Would you like to know more?" she asked and he nodded at her simply with his lips slightly parted.

 

"Well, you haves already seen these. Thems belong to that warrior woman. They be her lucky pairs, all them ones with the hearts. Always wears them to battle. She gots a softness behind all that metal, bets you didn't know that nows, did ya?" Cullen shook his head and handed her another pair to hang up.

 

"Ah, now these, yes I knows these. Belong to thats horned pirate. Looks at them, all tattered and raggedy. That one there has troubles letting go of his past. But one day something will break and he will haves to choose. Hold onto the past or lets go and charge into the future."

 

He didn't know what to say to that and she patted his cheek indulgently as he continued to stare at the Qunari's small clothes that were coming loose at the seams. "Not everything is as it seems on the surface my boy."

 

Cullen grasped another pair of smalls from the basket and handed them off. "And, uh, and these?" he asked quietly.

 

"These ones, well now, these are specials. These belong to someone who wants to feels pretty, to feels desirable. These belongs to someone that wears pretty, little delicate smalls in case the man she wants to see thems finally gets up the courage to uncover thems. These, well, they belongs to your fearless leader."

 

Cullen swallowed hard, they were _hers_. Should he look? He was barely through asking himself that before his eyes had darted to them. They were pretty, _very pretty_. They appeared to be almost silky in texture, so much so that he wanted to reach out and rub the fine material between his fingers. They were perfect, cream colored and almost sheer with a red ribbon weaved through the eyelets that made two lines down the front. _These_ were what she wore beneath all that armor? He pulled in a sharp breath and flicked his eyes from the smalls back to the old woman and she chuckled.

 

"Now, who is it you thinks she wants to see thems?" she asked while throwing him a wink.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josephine can be just as crafty as her counterpart, Leliana. Her offer to help Cullen with his dancing skills may not have his best interests at heart.

Josephine couldn't help the smile that threatened to spread her lips wide as she watched him. Such a change in his demeanour and no longer sporting that smug little grin he had been flashing at her over the last couple of days. He could be quite pleased with himself whenever he gained the Inquisitors favour, and he had acquired it more and more often as of late, all to her great annoyance. There she was day after day putting quill to the parchment, scouring her brain until she felt the vein near her eye twitch while searching for the best, non-confrontational solution to all their dilemmas. And all of it seemed to be for naught. No, it was always Cullen that got the nod of approval to send his troops forth. Always Cullen that got her smiles that accompanied her "good work." Never her, and oh how

Josephine loved to see that smile. There was something special about how her nose twitched and crinkled as her lips parted to show a row of small, straight teeth. The way that her eyes creased at the corners as her full cheeks were raised up by the corners of her mouth. But who was she kidding? It was almost painfully obvious that their leader only had eyes for Cullen. Just about as painfully obvious as the fact that the man would follow her around like a smitten little puppy if he wasn't so reserved in his manner.

Tonight was different though, for tonight, the Inquisitor was finally doing as Josephine had suggested and had spent the majority of her time schmoozing with the Orlesian nobles that had gathered for the evening. And Cullen, well, he floundered around the room while sticking close to the walls as he watched the Inquisitor with a frown furrowing his brow. Josephine knew she sounded jealous, maybe even a tiny bit bitter. But it was simply too perfect to see the military adviser completely and utterly out of his element, even if Varric and Leliana were shooting sympathetic looks in his general direction. There was absolutely no way that she was going to let this opportunity go to waste, Josephine thought as she moved to stand beside him.

"She looks beautiful tonight, don't you agree?" she asked while nodding her head to indicate the Inquisitor.

"Of course," Cullen murmured back distractedly as his eyes followed the slide of a man’s hand descending lower and lower down the Inquisitors back.

"Tell me Cullen," Josephine begun, "why is it you wither around like a wallflower instead of cutting in and dancing with her. I'm sure she wouldn't mind. In fact, I think she may even be grateful for it."

He blushed at her suggestion, the brightening of his cheeks clearly seen in the glow of the hundreds of candles that lit the ballroom. "I, uh, I don't think I could."

"Well, it isn't too difficult. You simply tap the man on the shoulder and..."

"No, you misunderstood--" his blush deepened "--I never really learnt how to dance, not confidently anyway."

Josephine turned her face away from him to hide her smile; the Maker really was making this far too easy for her. She let out a discrete breath and schooled her features before turning back to him.

"Would you like to learn?"

 

* * *

 

There was nothing that would have stopped Varric from following the pair out onto the balcony and there was nothing surprising about Leliana trailing behind him, not with the devious little smirk Josephine had aimed at them and successfully piquing their interests. It really was a sight to behold, watching the usually cool and collected former Knight Captain bumbling around with two left feet.

"Are you positive that it is imperative to perform this many dips consecutively?" Cullen asked and Varric muffled his snicker with a good swallow of brandy. "I don't see the rest of the men doing this, after all."

Josephine smiled up at him and fluttered her eyelashes innocently. "That's because they are all amateurs my dear man. If you really want to impress her, the dips are necessary."

Leliana giggled beside him and he glanced up at her as he swirled the amber liquid around his tumbler. "I never knew that Scribbles could be so... devious," he observed. "I don't think that the Makers Gift to Woman and Men alike will appreciate her instruction by the end."

Cullen twirled Josephine, faster and faster at her command until she stumbled and fell into him, her hands catching his shoulders in her grip to steady herself. "That was perfect," she exclaimed brightly.

"Oh come now Varric, it's all in good fun, no?" Leliana said as she watched her fellow advisers make fools of themselves.

 

* * *

 

Josephine watched him stride across the room and tap the Inquisitors current dancing partner on the shoulder and she grinned, not even bothering to hide it this time. He took the Inquisitor in his arms, back straight as he pulled her firmly against him. They did look stunning together; she could admit that even if it was done a little begrudgingly. He slid his hand done the curve of her side until it came to rest lightly on the swell if the Inquisitor hip where he gave a small squeeze before leading her into the first steps of the dance. Josephine saw the little smile that formed on the Inquisitors lips as Cullen over-stepped and the toe of his boot landed on her dainty foot. His cheeks coloured and the hand that he held at his partner’s hip clenched slightly. They spun and twirled their way between the dancing couples, the occasional misstep on Cullen's part but nothing truly horrendous.

Josephine crossed her arms over her breasts and tapped her fingers irritably over her ribs as the music came to an end and Cullen smoothly lowered the Inquisitor into a surprisingly graceful dip. She bristled. This was completely unfair, that man was unbelievable! After a parting whisper, he handed the Inquisitor graciously to the next noble awaiting her attentions and almost swaggered his way back over to where she stood with an increasingly petulant look gracing her features.

"What in the void was that?" Josephine asked Cullen as he stopped beside her.

"Most tend to call that dancing. As I said, I am not as accomplished as most here but it seemed to of ended in a positive result."

"But you... you were horrid out on the balcony," she spluttered and he... chuckled? Cullen never chuckled!

"I am not so obtuse to be unable to identify the look of mischief in a woman's eyes."

Josephine scowled up at him. "So, what was the result then? What did it all come to?" she asked and there it was, that blighted smug grin that she thought she'd been rid of.

"I stood on her feet, a lot. I will now be taking private dancing lessons with her every night that she resides within Skyhold. I should thank you. If you hadn't shown me how bad it could be I may never have gotten the gall up to cut in."

Josephine's mouth fell open as Cullen pushed off the wall and made his way over to the servant that manned the beverages, Varric giving him a congratulatory pat on the arm as he passed. She had helped him, had given him the courage to ask the Inquisitor to dance after her ridiculous charade of a lesson. Maker, that man really could be quite infuriating. 


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's possible to find things to hold hope in when the world could be coming to an end.

There wasn't much that could break through the hardness that encased her heart. After a lifetime of building up walls around herself to keep from longing for the things that she knew she couldn't have, there were now very few things that could find its way to all the softness that lay beneath. He had done it eventually, persevered through all the frosty looks and complications that arose from being an ex-templar that wanted to court a mage. She had thought it a joke at first. Had thought that it had been a form of amusement for him to dangle something that didn't belong to her like the cruel jests she had been victim of in the circle. Plenty thought her cold and ruthless but he knew the truth. Anyone that truly looked hard enough could see it in her, the woman that wanted nothing more than to be loved for what she was instead of hated for what she couldn't be.

There would never be many things that could have her lowering her guard. He was one, and the little girl currently occupying the space between her legs was another. His chest almost clenched at the sight, his throat tightening as he watched her brush her slender fingers through the girl’s unruly curls while she hummed some unknown tune. They had found the girl, a sole survivor of a decimated village that had been attacked by the corrupted men and woman of the order he had once felt such conviction for. He had felt the strong need to hang his head in shame when the girl looked up at him with fearful eyes while clutching the stiff, stinking corpse that had once been her mother. She cowered as he'd moved closer, tears making a clean trail through the soot that dirtied her face. She had stopped him with a light grip on his forearm, murmured that he still wore his helm that was likely to terrify a traumatized child then crouched to gather the girl in her arms.

The girl had looked so small when held firmly to her front, whispering comforting words against the mangled mop that was her hair. He had felt it then, knew what it had meant and the sadness that had crept into his heart hadn't ebbed in the days following the child's rescue. They were inseparable; he was pushed to the far side of their tent to make room for the girl that clung to her all throughout the night. He couldn't fault her for it, not after everything she had endured though he did try to discourage her from forming an attachment. He had felt cruel when he'd told her that the girl couldn't stay with them and she had drifted from him, stared ahead blankly as he listed all the reasons as to why they couldn't bring a child into their lives while she picked at the hem of her tunic. She'd looked down at her hand and with her index finger, traced the edge of her glove where the eerie glow of her burden could be seen peeking out from beneath. She had looked at him, her eyes boring into his and told him that she could think of one reason why they should keep the girl with them. His heart had shattered at the dampness in her eyes, the only sign of emotion for what they had lost, for what neither of them thought they could have. She had unconsciously rested her hand on her belly that would remain flat for the rest of her days and would never swell with the life of their child.

How was he to say no to that? How could he deny her the one thing she had truly ever wanted but could never have? He couldn't. Maker, he couldn't not give her what she wanted. It was a selfish act on both of their parts, to bring the girl back with them to Skyhold Keep. What sort of life could they give her other than the death and strife that came with war? But she had told him that they could shape the world into something beautiful for the little girl that was now theirs and he had believed it when spoken with such conviction. He had believed it when he heard the girl’s footsteps and childish giggles echo throughout the keep. Had believed it when they sat beneath a large willow in the brightness of the day while she showed their little girl how to manipulate the flame that she had recently been able to manifest in the palm of her hand. He believed it when he watched her weave that unruly mass of curls into a braid each night before bed and he believed it when he held them both in his arms and told them stories of noble Templar Knights that had once been known to exist.

Was it really so wrong, to steal a bit of happiness? As he watched them beside the fire, the flames giving a rosy glow to their cheeks and a shine to their damp hair, Cullen couldn't fathom how it could possibly be deemed so.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some smut ;)

She had fallen asleep on the grassy river bank; the warm beams of sunlight long ago drying up each droplet of water that had come to a standstill upon her unmoving form. It wasn’t often that Cullen was able to see her like this, relaxed and content with a hint of a smile on her parted lips. His eyes lingered on her face before they made the slow journey down her body. She was petite, so much smaller than him, and even though she was quite capable of being able to take care of herself she had provoked a strong sense of protectiveness in him. He would spar with her within Skyhold’s training yard and more times than not he would end up with her on his back, her legs wrapped snugly around his waist and the blade of her dagger at his throat. She liked to make him yield to her out on the training yard while Cullen, on the other hand, liked to make her yield to him within the privacy of her bedchamber—he smiled at her slumbering figure—or in the privacy of a secluded spot near a river.

His fingers begun to twitch with the want to touch her and he raised his hand to run it up the inside of her calf, fingertips pressing lightly to the softness of her skin. He stopped at her knee, dipped his fingers beneath it and stroked at a spot where he had found her to be overly sensitive. Her breath hitched slightly, just enough to let him know that she’d felt it behind the blanket of her dreams and his hand continued its journey up, stroking along the outside curve of her thigh before diverting inwards. Cullen glanced up at her to reassure himself of her ignorance concerning his intent then nudged his hand between her thighs, lightly brushed his fingers over the patch of fiery curls that covered her mound and her legs fell apart slightly. He flicked his gaze back up to her and he found her staring at him in a sleepy daze. He kept the eye contact between them as his finger traced the line of her slit then dipped his finger in as she bit down on her bottom lip and raised her hips up to meet him. She was beautiful like this, he thought, the sunlight dappled through the canopy of branches above them and playing lazily across her body. She sighed and he used the tip of his finger to gather the wetness at her entrance before sliding it up to her nub where he lightly rubbed in circles until she was clutching at his wrist and thrusting herself against his hand, trying to increase the amount of friction that he had been purposely keeping at a teasing pressure.

Her eyes pleaded with him and Cullen relented with a small smirk on his lips as his finger slid down and pushed into her tight warmth, his own arousal making its self-known with the twitch of his cock when she raised her hips up to meet the thrust of his finger inside of her. Small whimpers escaped from between her lips and he lowered himself down to take the stiff bud of her breast between his teeth. He flicked over it with his tongue as he slid a second finger into her depths, his thumb coming up to make passes over her clit and she tensed below him. It wasn't long before the meaty part of her palm was shoved into her mouth and clamped by teeth as her hips shot up and then she was quivering around his fingers, the essence of her release flowing past them.

Cullen pulled away from her breast and was greeted with the giddy little smile she always got after crashing over the edge. She raised a hand, brushed fingertips over the stubble that covered his cheek before grasping a handful of his hair and lowering him down to her eager lips. His fingers slid from her as their mouths crashed together, teeth skimming over parted lips accompanied by the flicker of their tongues. Cullen groaned into her then positioned himself between her legs as his hand folded around his cock, stroking himself to fullness while she clasped her legs around his hips and ran her nails down his side, leaving a trail of goose bumps in their wake. She murmured his name in his ear as he buried his face against her neck and pressed into her at the same time and she felt perfect, sporadically clenching around him as he thrust into her with the heels of her feet pushing against his lower back. He planted his arms down on either side of her narrow shoulders, buried his hands in the fine strands of her hair and locked them in place against her scalp and his nails gave a gentle scrape every time she was bumped up by the force of his stroke. He couldn’t think of anything better than this, than being inside of her, surrounding her and having her surround him. She had made it all worthwhile, all his mistakes had lead him to her and there wasn’t any way he could possibly fail now, not if it meant losing her.

His pace quickened and her teeth partially sunk into his shoulder as her hips lifted from the ground to meet him in each forceful plunge. Thedas thought she was theirs, their hero, their salvation, but she belonged to him, someone he could finally call his own. Knowing that—having the knowledge that she was his—was enough to make that inferno in his stomach explode throughout him. He slowed in his movements as he released inside of her, gentle shallow pushes until he finally slumped against her and she wrapped her arms around him like she had done with her legs, cradling him in the security of her body as he begun to soften inside of her. She brushed her lips over the shell of his ear and he could hear the smile in her voice as she told him that she loved him. Cullen held her tighter, pressed kisses up the length of her neck that were followed by the rough scrape of his chin. He met her eyes, he had never told a woman that he loved her before but the words slipped from his mouth with the ease of something that was true and indisputable. He loved her.                


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and the Inquisitor have met before.

Mother and Father never let her leave the estate, but she had tricked them. She wondered how long exactly it would take for them to notice that she was gone. They never let her have any fun, never let her come down to the village on market days so she could play with the other children. No, she was a lady, and ladies didn’t run around getting the hems of their skirts streaked with mud. Ladies had to be pleasant and sit quietly and sew pretty things with their needle and thread. Ladies had to stand still while they got measured for new gowns and ladies had to practice their diction so they wouldn’t sound common. Charlotte didn’t want to be a Lady; she wanted to go swimming when the days became too hot and not worry about who saw her in nothing but a shift. She wanted to climb trees and leap over bushes and play with mabari pups. But she could do that now, she was free! Free to do however she pleased, free to… hide behind a bush and watch a boy doing all the things that she wanted to but didn’t know how.

He never stayed still, always bouncing from one place to the next while he gripped a wooden practice sword in both his hands and hacked down imaginary foes as a puppy chased after him, trying to snap at his heels. Charlotte wanted to do that but she didn’t know how to ask him if she could play too. So she hid and she watched and the longer she watched the bigger her smile became. He was alright looking—for a boy that is—with blond hair that looked like spun gold when he leapt from the shadows and landed in the rays of the sun. Charlotte fingered at her braid of fiery hair and wished that she had hair that looked like gold and as engrossed in the thought as she was, she didn’t notice the puppy sniffing around her hiding place until it was too late.

The puppy growled at her and she toppled backwards onto her bum then scrambled back on her hands, the fear of getting bitten causing her heart to hammer at a rapid pace inside her chest. The boy shortly followed, looking her over with a curious eye before pulling the pup back by the scruff of its neck while murmuring soothing words to it. The pup sat by his feet and he smiled down at her as he offered her his hand to help her up. She appraised it warily; she had never held a boy’s had before, not for any reason. He almost looked a little bit sad when she didn’t take his offer of kindness straight away and his hand started to lower leaving her to make her decision quickly. She wrapped her fingers around his and returned his smile as he pulled her up off the ground.

Their hands dropped to their sides and he stooped down to scratch his dog behind one of its ears. “Don’t mind Ser Didymus, he won’t hurt you. He just likes to think he is tough, is all. You can pat him if you want, I promise he won’t bite.”

Charlotte hesitated as she crouched in front of the pup and slowly placed a hand lightly on the top of his head. Her heart pounded, she had never touched a dog before and her fingers twitched against his fur before she buried them into the thick coat and scratched her blunt nails along his scalp. She giggled, heady with the small action that had always been forbidden. It was amazing, she felt like she could do anything now and she stood, giving the boy a big smile as she offered her hand to him as he had done for her.

“My name is Charlotte. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The boy took her hand in his and surprised her by raising it to his lips and brushing a kiss over her knuckles. “My name is Cullen,” he said in return.

She blushed, her cheeks almost blending into her hairline. She had never been kissed by a boy before and he grinned at her, showing a line of perfectly straight, white teeth.

“You have a good grip there.”

“Pardon me?” Charlotte looked down and saw that she was grasping his hand so tightly that the tips of his fingers were starting to turn red. She jumped back, mortified at her reaction to his gentlemanly gesture. “I am… I am so sorry. I did not mean to do that,” she stammered out and he laughed at her discomfort.

“It’s fine. What are you doing out here anyway? I’ve never seen a girl with a dress as fancy and as pretty as yours around these parts.”

Charlotte pursed her lips together to try and suppress another broad smile. “I’m from up the hill, you know…” she trailed off and Cullen nodded that he understood before she tried speaking again. “What were you playing?”

Here gave her an indignant look with a raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t playing anything. I was training,” he stated.

“Oh, well, what were you training for then?”

One corner of his lips curled up in a half-smile, “my skills with a blade, of course. Every Templar needs to know how to use a blade, and they need to know it well.”

“You want to become a Templar?” she asked and he nodded his head with a wide smile plastered on his lips.

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s far better than being a farmer like my Pop and you get to protect mages and people alike, just like a true noble knight is supposed to.”

Charlotte looked up at him in awe; his words were said with such conviction that it made her wish that she could become something other than what had already been planned out for her.

“I wish I could do something like that,” she mumbled under her breath.

He looked her up and down, taking in her stooped shoulders and the small frown that tugged at her lips and he felt a pang of sadness for the girl—everyone should be able to follow their dreams. “Did you want to have a turn? I can teach you,” he offered as he held his wooden sword out to her.

Charlotte’s hands shook as she took it from him and he gave her a small waggle of his index finger. “Rule number one, keep your hands steady. You won’t be able to hold onto the sword for long if your hands are trembling.”

She nodded and stilled her hands only to jump when he placed both of his on her shoulders and pulled them back so she was standing straight. “Good posture is important. I would have thought that one of your standing would know that,” he teased.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Yes Mother,” she muttered under her breath and he chuckled. He taught her some basic stances next and then how to pull her arms up to align with her chest to use the blade to block oncoming attacks.

“You know, you’re actually not as terrible as I thought you’d be,” he remarked offhandedly. “You take direction well and if you practiced, you could become better.”

Charlotte beamed at him. “You really think so?” she asked and he knocked her under the chin with a knuckle. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t think it, little one.”

She frowned at that, he couldn’t be that much older than her eleven years, after all. “I’m one in ten and you can’t be that much older than me,” she accused while folding her arms across her chest.

“Two years older actually, and we all know that boys mature faster than girls so it might as well be four.” He poked his tongue out at her and she bristled a little before a small smile crept over her lips, only to be doused with her realization that the setting of the sun was almost upon them.

“I should probably be getting home before it gets too dark. Thank you, Cullen, for being nice to me.”

He gave her a small nod along with a smile in acknowledgment and as she turned from him to leave he gave a tug to her braid, causing her to look back at him while he cleared his throat.

“I, uh, practice here all the time. You’re welcome to come back… if you’d like that.”

Charlotte turned back to face him and placed her hands on his shoulders as she rose up on the tip of her toes to place a peck of a kiss on his blushing cheek.

“I’d like that,” she whispered, “thank you.”

 

* * *

 

Charlotte looked out over the inky blackness of the night as she rested her elbows on the wide lip of the window. She always thought it rather funny that the memory of that boy came to the forefront of her mind whenever she was feeling the slightest bit lonely, and here in this large keep, the loneliness resounded around her. He was the only person that she had met that hadn’t tried to turn in her into something she didn’t want to be. She had never gone back to meet him again of course, her Mother and Father had made sure of that. But at least one good thing had come from it—her Father, seeing her passion for sword play had relented and allowed her to start training with a set of practice daggers that had belonged to her Grandfather.

The rough sound of a throat clearing came from behind her and Charlotte turned to face the person it had originated from. She took in the man that stood before her, tall and broad-shouldered, strong jawline and a faint scar traveling over a set of well-shaped lips. She pulled in a shallow breath, he was very handsome. He looked her over with a curious eye before extending his arm and offering her his hand. “Forgive me; I do not think we have been properly introduced. My name is Ser Cullen, and I am to be your military advisor.”


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, more smut. WOOOOOO!

She had been avoiding him for hours—thought that she could just sneak her way up to her chambers with him none the wiser. He wasn’t exactly sure how obtuse she seemed to think he was that he wouldn’t notice the commotion she roused around Skyhold with her return. It was a ridiculous notion on her part. But as he watched her from the archway struggling to weave fistfuls of damp hair into a braid he now knew why she had kept to the shadows. Her right arm trembled with the effort and a small whimper of pain escaped from between her lips. She really was a stubborn thing—would never ask for help when she needed it the most, especially not from him. It was almost as if she refused to show him weakness.

 

Her back went rigid and her arm fell lamely to her side—her hair unravelling with droplets of water falling from the ends to leave small splotches down her robe. She huffed out a frustrated breath and stared ahead into the looking glass as she banged her fist on the vanity. Cullen cleared his throat to catch his chuckle at her display of irritation and took a few steps into the room.

 

“Is there something you need help with, my lady?” he inquired and she turned her head to face him, her usually supple lips pursed together into a thin line as she shook her head.

 

This time Cullen let his laughter fill the silence and he came to stand behind her. “Come now, Remy, there is no need to persevere through this farce. You and I both know the truth.”

 

Remy glared at him through the looking glass and he gave her a small smile before inclining his head to place a kiss atop the crown of her hair. “You are injured,” he murmured as he gathered her hair in his hands and parted it into three sections.

 

“It is but a scratch. Nothing to worry about, I assure you.”

 

“Just a scratch, you say. Yet you cannot lift your arm long enough to be able to fix your own hair.” He weaved the sections together into a tight braid, the rough pads of his fingers taking the opportunity to brush along the curve of her neck every now and then. “Your tales of scratches do you no honours, I assure you,” Cullen teased as he tied his work off with a leather thong.

 

He let the thick, heavy braid thump against her back then placed his hands on her shoulders, his fingers kneading into the tense muscle that had been built from years of practice with her twin blades before slipping a hand beneath the neckline of her robe. He ran his hand along the line of her shoulder, pushing the linen further down her arm as he reached her bicep and found the beginnings of a snuggle wrapped bandage.

 

“I have never known wounds that are ‘but a scratch’ to need such painstakingly precise wrappings before,” he observed with a raised eyebrow.

 

Remy let out a muted breath for she knew what was coming, knew that she would have to pay the price for her carelessness. There was no one to blame but herself really, she had made the suggestion to him and Cullen had taken to it with the same eagerness as a child would a slice of pie. She had won more often than not which was probably why it was still so hard for her to relinquish all control—to give it all to a man that she was terrified would never return once he had left the safety of their stronghold and her heart would be forever gone with him. How were you supposed to live without your heart?

 

His calloused hand slipped back up her arm to trail the slight curve of her breast beneath the robe. “We made a deal, you and me.” His hand cupped her and his thumb brushed over her stiffening nipple. “I come back injured, and I take Cole fishing. You come back injured, and well—” he stooped down and started to brush his lips down the length of her neck as he spoke “—you submit.”

 

A small shiver ran down Remy’s back as Cullen gave a pinch to her nipple then rolled it between his fingers before releasing her to go in search for the tie of her robe. One tug was enough to undo the sloppily tied not and he parted her robe as she lifted her bottom enough from the stool for him to be able to pull it out from beneath her. Cullen slipped it from her shoulders to let it fall down the length of her arms and pool on the floor at his feet while he used the looking glass to keep his gaze steady on hers. He ran his hands down her sides and over the small swells of her hips then up the centre of her belly until he cupped a small breast in each hand. He rolled his thumbs over the stiff peaks and rested his chin on the top of her head as Remy let out a quiet sigh.

 

“You need to get on the bed,” he murmured and then his warmth was gone from around her as he stepped back, raised his arms over his head and grasped his tunic before tugging it off.

 

Remy stood— her legs shaky with fatigue and the pit of her stomach tingling with the beginnings of her arousal. She bit into her bottom lip as her eyes skimmed over of Cullen’s bare chest, taking in the smooth expanse of skin that was interrupted by a sprinkling of dark golden hairs. Her fingers itched to touch him, to run along the dips and curves of his muscle but she knew she wasn’t allowed to, so instead made her way over to the bed and lowered herself down until she lay on her back with her hands flattened out over her belly.

 

Cullen followed her, crawled up onto the bed and knelt at her feet. He cleared his throat while giving her a pointed look before shifting his gaze to the patch of dark curls at the juncture of her thighs. Remy swallowed the lump in her throat and slowly parted her legs, a blush coming to heat her cheeks at how he stared at her most intimate place. He was the only man she had ever let touch her, the only man that had ever looked upon her naked figure and she still felt the residual effects of her inexperience. Her embarrassment was soon forgotten though as he lifted a leg and placed a kiss on the inside of her ankle then made a line of them down the inside of her calf to her knee. Cullen scrapped his teeth there, along the sensitive flesh where gooseflesh would rise at his touch.

 

He glanced up at her and gave a small smile before he continued down the length of her thigh and settled himself between her legs, nudging them further apart with his shoulders. He inhaled her scent, her arousal mingling with the orange flower water she used after bathing and he ran his nose lightly over her mound before slipping his fingers between her folds and spreading her wider. Cullen gave her one last look, found her to be holding her breath as she watched his every move.

 

"Don't forget to breath." The breath that accompanied his words tickled at her sex and her thighs twitched against the sides of his head. She wanted to touch him, to take some control back and she raised a hand to brush her fingertips over the rough stubble that covered his jaw then up to twine into his hair. He caught her arm before she could get a good grasp, raised his head and placed a gentle kiss on the pulse point of her wrist before placing her arm at her side and tsking her as he did so.

 

Then he was delving into her, pushing the flat of his tongue against the silken, wetness of her folds--slowly collecting the proof of her arousal in his mouth as he firmly licked up to the little bundles of nerves that sat swollen and ready for his attention. He curled his tongue around her nub and he felt her quiver as he gently scrapped his teeth before sucking the flesh into his mouth as he slipped a finger into her warmth. Remy moaned and arched her back, hands clenching at the bedcover as she offered herself to him with a buck of her hips. This was when it became easy to let go, her thighs becoming taut as he thrust his fingers into her depths and his tongue flicking and swirling over clit. 

 

She wanted to bury her hands into his hair, to hold him against her as he added another finger to his thrusts while the inferno in the pit of her stomach intensified with each stroke and swipe of his tongue, with each plunge and push into her that went deeper than the one before it. This was when she showed him her weakness--how easy it was for him to turn her into a crumbling mess as she pressed her feet firmly against his sides and lifted her bottom to meet his movements while incoherent words tumbled from her, begging him to bring her release so she could finally let go and just be.

 

Cullen added a third finger, clamped around her nub with his mouth and sucked as he shut his mind off from his own want. He flicked his tongue back and forth, her whimpers and moans muffled by her thighs tightly pressed against his head while he breathed in the air and  _her_ sharply through his nose. Remy convulsed around his fingers, back raised and head thrown back as she let out a throaty moan and writhed against the bed. His sucking became more gentle and he pulled his fingers from her, watched as her chest rose and fell with each one of her heavy breaths.

 

He shifted from between her legs with his cock half hard and fell at Remy's side. She still held the bedcover clamped in her hands and he nuzzeled his nose against the underside of her breast and peppered small kisses over her ribs with lips wet from her release. Finally she turned into him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and weaved her fingers into his hair as her breathing calmed and he pulled her snug against him.

 

Remy was truly exhausted now, eyelids fighting against the pull of sleep as she twisted the end of her braid around her hand. The small action of Cullen fixing her hair hadn't been lost on her and she rested her chin on his head as a weak smile formed on her lips.

 

"How did you come to learn the art of how to braid a woman's hair," she asked.

 

He stiffened a little beside her and cleared his throat. "When I was stationed at Kinloch I would sometimes be sent to retrieve mages. Most times than not it was a child--a little girl doesn't know how to braid her hair." He finished with a shrug of his shoulders but the hoarseness of his voice told her a different story.  Remy arms tightened around him despite the intense ache in her wounded arm, protective of the man that had lost so much of himself and determined to help him find it again.


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor and Cullen bond a little over some sparring.

Her lips were dry and her mouth parched. Her breaths came in heavy rasps and the sweat that dampened her brow had started to fall into her eyes. It was far too hot for this--how had she ever thought that sparring in the mid-day heat was a good idea? Oh, that's right, it most likely had something to do with the fact that she had watched Cullen in the training yard many times before, and each time she had admired the way that his sweat drenched tunic had clung and outlined every dip and bulge of his muscle. Today though, she had been caught out. Her advisor--whom appeared to be gifted with the eyes of an eagle--had seen he hovering not discretely enough beside a window and had promptly waved her down to join him. Only a simpleton would pass up the invite to view the man at a much closer range.

She regretted it now, though, as the sun beat down on her back and her tunic clung to the lines of her body just as much as his did. He was, of course, a perfect gentleman--eyes never lingering in the places they shouldn't no matter how much she wished they  _would_. And on top of it all, he was smiling. It was nothing more than the lift of one corner of his mouth but gone was the stern expression she usually found there and replacing it was a softness she had never thought to see from a man that always seemed to have a metaphorical stick stuck up his ass. Could it be that Cullen actually found sparring with her to be  _fun_? Well, she couldn't have that now, could she? Especially not while he was lazily swinging his sword out in front of him while she was mopping the sweat from her brow and eyes with sleeve of her tunic. No, she thought it high time that she taught her incredibly handsome military advisor just how dirty she could play.

She tapped the toe of her boot three times on the cracked dirt of the training yard to signal the continuation of their spar. He clapsed the hilt of his sword in both hands and with a nod of his head, widened his stance as she circled him with light steps. He followed her movements, rotating to keep her in his line of sight. It was her grin that caught it him off guard, the way that it spread smugly over her lips as she arched an eyebrow at him before he was blinded by the sunlight reflecting off of her blade and into his eyes.

She rolled forward and slipped in beind him to smack the flat of her blade against his backside. Cullen arched his back in surprise and stumbled forward as she stiffeled her giggle with clamped lips while bouncing away from him on the balls of her feet. He whipped around to face her with a frown scrunching his forehead and glared at her.

"That was a  _very_ cheap shot for a high born lady," he muttered as he gave his rump a soothing rub.

She winked at him while throwing up one of her twin daggers to spin in the air before catching it. "It appears that all my good breeding has evaporated in this insufferable heat. Oh, and there is also the fact that I loathe losing."

Cullen gave a slight snort and a shake of his head as his lips twitched with a hidden smile before regaining his stance and raising is sword to her in challenge.

She swug her blades into place and continued her circulation, taking feathered step after feathered step until she saw her opening and launched herself at him. She let loose a dagger in mid-air, the hilt passing through her fingers as it hurtled towards her target. The clang of metal connecting with metal rang throughout the yard as Cullen met her blade with is own in a wide sweep that successfully deterred the path of her weapon. She planted a foot firmly on his thigh and used her own momentum to push off and swing herself around him. Her free arm hooked high around his neck, forcing his face up with her forearm to give better access to his jugular as she wrapped her legs around his waist and placed the edge of her blade to rest lightly against his vulnerable flesh.

"I can give you a nice, close clean shave if you ask nicely, Ser Cullen," she whispered in his ear. He swallowed hard--she could feel his laryngeal bob up and down beneath her arm.

She pushed herself more firmly against his back and again whispered in his ear, "do you yeild Ser?" she asked.

"I yield," he murmured in reply with a single stiff nod of his head and the release of a shaky breath. 

She unwrapped her legs from around him and slid slowly down the length of his back until her feet reached the ground, perfectly well aware of what she was doing as her hand drifted down his side. He stood unmoving and silent as she retrieved her dagger and she suddenly felt a flush of embarrasment spread across her already warm cheeks. What was she thinking, moving against him in such a suggestive manner? Maybe her good breeding really had evaporated in the heat. Maker, she was never going to be able to look him in the eyes again.

She moved past him to leave the yard, hands clenched around the hilts of her daggers and her head bowed  only to be stopped by the clearing of his throat and the feel of his rough fingers closing around her wrist. She turned back to him and glanced up to find him rubbing a large hand over the back of his neck.

"Same time tomorrow, then?" he asked.

She bit down on her lower lip to stop the spread of her smile and nodded demurely--her ladylike mannerisms finally making themselves known after a long absence. He let loose her wrist, a single finger brushing over her pulse point and for the first time in her life, her heart gave a small flutter in acknowledgment of anothers touch. 

 

 


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here is a small blurb in celebration of the new Cullen "bedroom" pic that was released.

Well, he certainly had chosen one of the more derelict rooms to reside in. She was positive that there were ones that had _actual ceilings_ , but she imagined him giving her some reason for his choice that would make her face light up with that silly smile she got whenever he revealed just a tiny bit about himself. She flicked her eyes cautiously around and finding no one at either end of the hall, stepped into the soldiers bedchamber. She ran her hands over the rough stone work of the walls and balanced along floorboards that had fallen from the room above then tugged at the climbing vine that was steadily growing up one of the corners of the room. Next, her attention gravitated towards the bed. It was small, only for one person but why would he need anything bigger? The bedcovers were pristinely clean, not one single speck of dust rising from the thick weaves when she patted her hand upon them.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she lowered herself to sit—rubbed her hands in circles over the soft wool and bounced a few times. Oh, yes. This was a comfortable bed, she approved. She felt the need to lay and snuggle into the covers but that would be weird, wouldn’t it? Honestly, she barely knew the man but he seemed to bring out the strangest behaviour in her, such as invading his personal space and testing the comfort of his bed like she had some claim to an opinion on the matter. She could argue that it was because she was the type of person that held everyone’s best interests close to her heart but that would be a big lie and she knew it. She sighed, if only her Mother could see her now—hanging out in men’s bedchambers when she hardly knew them while they cleared their throats behind her and….. Oh dear Maker, he was behind her. She stood and whipped around to face him as her cheeks blossomed with her embarrassment; _he is going to think I’m so weird_.

The expression on his face surprised her—eyes roving over her and that _smile_ left her feeling like some sort of prey that he had cornered. He stepped forward and she stepped back, her actions making his lips turn up at the corners even more.

“You didn’t have to get up on my account.” He took another step forward and her back bumped into the wall, the stone digging into her shoulder blades through her coat.

She opened her mouth then promptly closed it as he moved around the bed, stalking her with languid strides until he stood before her and took her chin in hand.

“I quite liked seeing you upon my bed.”

He lowered his head as he tilted her face up then brushed his lips lightly against her own before pausing. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming out in a shaky huff and her eyes gently closed as he kept his mouth mere inches above her and then he was smiling while pressing those perfectly shaped lips to hers again, the tip of his tongue skimming along her bottom lip and his hand slipped from her chin to bury in her hair.

“Do you have need of me?”

_Yes!_ It was a resounding scream in her head. Yes, she had need of him! Needed him to lift her up so she could wrap her legs around him while grinding against his…. Her eyes snapped open when she felt his warmth leave her and she found Cullen standing across the room looking at her quizzically.

“Excuse me, what was that?” she asked.

“I asked if you had a need of me. Are you feeling well? You seem a bit… far off.”

“Oh, I’m—” _delusional_ “—very tired. I think I need to rest.”

He lips curved into a smile and her mouth dropped open a bit. Maker, it was _that_ smile. How was it possible that fantasy Cullen and real Cullen smiled at her the exact same way? She _was_ delusional, it was the only answer.

She made to leave the room, her eyes averted from his gaze as she walked past him to the doorway.

“You know where to find me—if you do have need of me, that is.” She paused at his words and swallowed before giving him a brisk nod then hurriedly removed herself from his room. She wasn’t sure how she was going to go about it, but she would be claiming a space in that bed in the very near future.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there has been some talk in the BSN Cullen thread on how we would all like for him to refer to Amell/Surana or if him knowing them should even be mentioned in DA:I. Personally, I'm not a shipper of Cullen with either but I thought I would head-cannon my own little situation regarding this conversation. I like it, I think it is cute. One of the dev's recently dropped into the thread and mentioned that they experienced some witty/sassy banter with Cullen while playing DA:I, so I'm all about writing Cullen with some sense of humour right now.
> 
> I hope you are all enjoying my little one shots and thanks to those that have left Kudo's. ;)

Barely ten minutes had passed since returning to Skyhold before Cullen had gathered her in his arms and was pressing firm kisses to the crown of her head. He then pulled her through the many rooms and halls of the keep, leading them to her chambers in a most indiscreet fashion. Everyone knew where they were going and what they would be doing if their sly glances and placement of their hands over their grins was anything to go by. She didn’t mind though, she was far too caught up in her own infatuation with the man to pay much mind to the opinion of others.

The sound of the door being bolted thrilled her and sent anticipation to tingle throughout her body. She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth as he strode towards her and again held her in his embrace. Swift fingers unbuckled armour which fell to the ground with thuds and clangs as he murmured over and over again how he had missed her, how he had prayed to their Maker every night for her safety and quick return. The barer she became the slower his examination of her, his fingers skimming over pale flesh while seeking out new scars from the old, his eyes darkening as he passed over a raised gash of pink tissue—the remaining evidence of a dagger being embedded in her ribs.

He met her eyes, his lips parting to speak and she gently placed her index finger over them before he could release a single syllable. “Don’t,” she whispered. She needed no reminders of how her life had nearly come to an end, not now when all she wanted was to be consumed by him. He would ruin the moment with a lecture and she would leave to bathe with a frown creasing her brow and a pout on her lips—no, she would much rather have that discussion after he’d made love to her.

To her surprise, Cullen nodded, and then continued with the removal of her leggings, his fingers becoming increasingly shaky as he picked her up and placed her on the end of the bed so he could give them one last tug. She pushed herself further up the bed and he followed, crawling towards her on his hands and knees until he came to settle between her legs. He devoured her with his mouth, lips and tongue making trails over her body until she was a whimpering, wreathing mess beneath him, begging to feel him deep inside of her.

He finally conceded with her wishes, sitting up to lean against the headboard and pulling her to straddle his lap. She sunk down onto him, taking his length into her as a moan passed from between her lips. He buried his face in her neck and wrapped his arms around her, cradled her firmly against him as her movements atop him became more rushed. Their love making was always at its most desperate upon either of their returns. It was in the way they clung to one another, in the way neither of them felt at peace until they had fully come together with their bodies trembling and their breathing ragged as their sounds of ecstasy mingled together. She tensed then went limp against him as she met her release in his arms, his name coming out in breathy moans in his ear between pants of breath as he followed her over the edge with a few quick thrusts up into her heated depths.

* * *

Beneath the bedcovers he still held her firmly against him. He was not yet of the mind to be separated from her. The tips of his fingers explored every swell and dip of her body, running along her thigh and over her hip. He tickled at her ribs and she squirmed a little, pushing her rare into his still sensitive shaft and he hissed against her neck. His fingers then came to a stop as they once again found her latest injury. She pulled in a breath and let it out as a sigh, all in preparation for what would be his scolding for a lack of concentration in the thick of battle.

He pressed a kiss behind her ear just as a thought came to mind. Woman talked, and she had recently learnt from Leliana that Cullen may have once harboured some feelings for the great Hero of Ferelden. She had to admit that she was curious. Not once had he ever mentioned her in any sort of way that would suggest that to be the case but she  _was_  looking to distract him from the glaring scar that he now traced with a blunt nail. She jumped on it, clutched at her plan as she rolled over to face him and pushed away the lingering memory she held of the twinge of jealousy she’d felt at the thought of Cullen once loving another

She rested her hands upon his chest and rubbed her thumbs in small circles while placing a kiss on his chin before broaching the subject with him. “I met up with Leliana near to two weeks into travel and she parted upon me some very interesting information.” Cullen rested his chin on the top of her head and she felt the rumble of his hum in his throat, giving her his assent to continue.

“She told me that you may have been in love with the Hero of Ferelden.”

He shifted, leaning back from her so he could meet her eyes. “Is that so?” he asked with a small smile and she gave an earnest nod in response.

“You woman could turn a seed traveling along the planes of Thedas with the aid of the wind into an epic love story.” He sighed and gave an amused shake of his head before continuing. “Maybe back then I thought I loved her but I was young and didn’t really understand what love was. You cannot be in love with someone when you only experience them from afar. She was very pretty, intelligent, kind and she always had a smile for me when she passed. I admit I was quite taken with what I thought I knew her to be but that was all there was to it.  She propositioned me after her harrowing”—he grinned—“well at least I thought she was. I’m still not entirely sure if that was her intention.”

She stared up at him, becoming somewhat engrossed with his story and urged him to continue. “What did you do?”

“I ran of course,” he admitted with a chuckle. “I was terrified that someone would overhear our conversation and bring the wrath of the Maker himself down upon us. It is one thing to find yourself experiencing feelings for someone that is your charge but another to act upon them. I never would have disgraced either one of our positions with such an act.”

“So you were never in love with her then?” she asked in a small voice.

“No, never in love, an infatuation of youth would be a more appropriate term for it I think.”

“Do you still think about her?”

“I used to—”he paused to consider her question then looked down at her“—are you jealous?” he queried with an arched eyebrow. She bit into her bottom lip as she felt her cheeks blossom with heat. He laughed, taking her clear sign of embarrassment as answer enough.

“You do know that that is a ridiculous notion, don’t you?” he asked.

She frowned and pursed her lips together in a thin line. “You don’t need to make fun of me, thank  _you_  very much. The thought of filling the shoes of someone like the Hero of Ferelden is not the most comforting thing to consider.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. The Hero was a good woman; she did what I could not even fathom of doing by saving the Ferelden Circle. I hold a great respect for all that she became and accomplished, the same as any other soul that stills has their life thanks to her. But you are the most incredible woman I have come across in all my years.” Cullen rolled her over onto her back and situated himself between the softness of her thighs and begun to press small kisses along her jawline as he spoke. “I hold you in the highest regard—so high in fact, that you could stretch your arm out and be able to brush your fingers over the stars above.”

He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose and she giggled. “You exaggerate,” she accused.

Cullen placed the palm of his hand to his chest and feigned offence. “I bare my heart to you and you accuse me of exaggerating. You wound me.”

“Now you most definitely exaggerate.”

“That may be so but I dare say you will put up with such things.” He gazed into her eyes and brushed strands of hair to tuck behind her ear, his face taking on a more serious countenance. “I do mean it though; my admiration for you is extensive. More than I thought I could ever feel for a singular person. You taught me what love is, real love. You sacrifice yourself for the lives of so many and expect nothing in return—” she twisted her fingers into his hair and lifted her head to brush her lips over his, effectively cutting him off.

“Oh, I expect something in return,” she murmured against his lips.

Cullen pulled away, a brief look of surprise passing across his face. “And what would that be?” he asked.

“Why, you would be my prize of course.”

He smirked down at her. “I don’t think that that will be a problem.”

He inclined his head back down and their lips pressed together in a lingering kiss, tongues gently twisting together as he ran his hand up and down her side until he once again came to a stop at her scar. He separated from her and a sigh of disappointment from her mouth followed him when she felt his thumb move along the tender flesh.

“Now, my love, about this scar,” he muttered. She winced at what was to come.  


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little tid-bit that I thought I would add since it gave me the feels for my Inquisitor and Cullen.

She liked to pretend she was asleep for as long as possible, her limbs limp and her breathing even. She fought against tightening the muscles of her abdomen as fingers trailed from one rib to the next while goose bumps erupted over her skin. The lids of her eyes remained closed as the whispering warmth of another moved alongside her and the scrap of teeth made her nipples erect.

 

Her pulse stuttered then sped up when the palm of a hand was pushed between her thighs, her hips twitching as fingers parted her flesh. She knew the charade was over when they finally slipped smoothly inside and she emitted a small moan, yet her eyes stayed firmly closed. She didn’t need them open to know his hair would be ruffled, the natural curl making itself known in all the disarray. She knew every crease of his brow and the line of his nose, knew the curve of his mouth and the darkness beneath his eyes.

 

Her legs fell apart while her pelvis thrust in time with the glide of well-trained fingers, her eyes scrunching as her teeth sunk into her lip. Then, the slightest murmur of his name as she clenched and trembled, her back arching along with the release of a breathy sigh.

 

She opened her eyes with a smile on her parted lips and looked out into the darkness. He wasn’t there and her smile faded. Tears that would never fall came to perch at the outer corners of her eyes. She brushed them away and knew she would spend every day until his return, searching for his crow on the horizon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	11. Submission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy. :)

If one was to ask his opinion on the matter, Cullen would tell them that he thought she spent too many nights alone hunched over the large wooden table with the tip of a finger making its way from one end of the map to another. He would tell them that over time he had seen the barley-there lines of her youth etch deeper and deeper across her brow. He would tell them that he wished her spared of a burden that he could never save her from. He would tell them that he increasingly thought the day would come when he would never again see her smiling face hidden beneath his sheets as the morning sun threatened to bring them back to reality.

What he wouldn’t tell them was of the nights he spent worshipping every bare inch of her body. Of how her toes would curl and the muscles of her calf would stiffen when he ran the nail of his thumb over the arch of her foot. How she couldn’t help but elicit a sigh when he grazed his teeth along the curve of her bottom. Of how he loved her best and letting her go would be the hardest thing he could ever bring himself to do. He had tried, for what it was worth. Had discouraged himself against forming too much of an attachment where she was concerned but she was skilled in worming her way into all of their lives; his especially.

He would admit that he was surprised when the day had come and he finally realized he cared for her much more than he had ever intended to. She had known the whole time of course and Cullen had felt like a complete fool for denying himself of her for so long. Too many days he had spent tracking the stare of the grey warden as it followed her around the room. Too many frowns had passed across his features as that same stare lingered on certain parts of her anatomy without her knowledge.

In the end that stare had prompted him to look more carefully and he would find himself taking in the length of her legs, the round firmness of her buttocks and swell of her hips, the heave of her breasts when they trained together and the shine of her hair in the sun. He became entranced by the dimples in her cheeks that only appeared when she smiled; the graceful movements of her hands as she plaited small braids in her hair and the hint of sunburn that reddened her pale skin more often than not. He had hit his peak and had succumbed to it all and in one hesitant, awkward night had claimed her just as much as she had claimed him.

It was the memories of their first night together that had prompted him into seeking her out. He yearned for her touch as he briskly walked through the dim halls, the remaining lit torches flickering in the mountain wind that always forced its way through the smallest cracks of the holds structure. He knew where to find her, knew her nightly ritual as if it were his own and there she was, hand rubbing over the back of her neck and fingers kneading into the knots of muscle with her head dipped forward as she gazed down at the map.

The rustling of his tunic notified her of his presence and she lifted her head to look over her shoulder, a small smile curving her lips when she saw it was him. Her eyes were glassy from lack of sleep, her hair twisted into a sloppy knot at the nape of her neck and the tips of her fingers stained with ink. Cullen reached for her, his hand cupping her face as his thumb rubbed over her cheekbone.

“You know that it isn’t necessary for you to be in here all hours of the night,” he remarked, his hand pulling away from her now that he had noticed the rough pad of his thumb had irritated her skin.

She made a poor attempt of wrapping her small hand around his wrist to keep him close, her chewed nails standing out in contrast to the slender elegance of her fingers. It was a habit of hers—gnawing at her nails when she was at her most anxious. The cuffs of her tunic were frayed from where she had meticulously picked at the stitching and her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment due to his steady gaze.

Of what she had to be embarrassed about, Cullen wasn’t too sure. He knew her after all. Knew what made her smile and what made her scared. He knew what infuriated her and he knew exactly what she wanted as she stared up at him, begging him with large brown eyes ringed in dark circles.

“Laurel,” he murmured warningly only to be hushed by a soft hum as cool hands slipped beneath his tunic, her fingers tucking into his belt and tugging him closer until her breasts were pressed against his ribs.

She voiced her plea this time, fingers already pulling the strip of leather through his belt buckle before he could respond. It took only a few quick tugs and she had the belt held loosely in her hand, offering it up to him with expectancy clear on her face. He was to take it, so he did.

The dynamics had changed as their relationship had progressed—as the Inquisition had progressed. She was poised and confident, strong in body and spirit. Laurel rallied men and women around her like a beacon of hope shining bright before them. She gave orders and made decisions with the wisdom one would think she ought not to possess. She killed with a deadly precision that instilled fear in those who would oppose her. She showed empathy and respect where it was deserved yet held an unforgiving blade over those who lacked all humanity. It wasn’t until they were alone that she would express any of her fears and he would see her frame straining beneath the weight of leadership.

Cullen become more attentive, his confidence in his ability to please her growing with each passing night they spent tangled amongst each other’s limbs. He would thrust harder and she would cling to him more fiercely. He would hold her pinned against a wall with his body and she would moan louder. He would restrain her hands with his own and she would find her release far quicker than he had ever known her to.

Then there was the night when she had looped her arms around one of the posts of her bed and had asked him with a shy tilt of her head to fasten his belt around her wrists. He had hesitated at first, his words stuttering from his mouth like they had when he was a boy and the most brilliant shade of pink had bloomed over the apples of her cheeks. She attempted to curl away from him but he was quicker, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her to rest against his front.

He had asked her why, needing to understand an act that was so completely foreign to him. Her words were minimal, expressing herself as best she could with her own limited comprehension of her desires. She wanted to feel free from it all, to have someone else—to have him take control, even if it was only for a short time, even if it was only while they were alone. His hands had shaken as he bound her wrists together, a nervous tingle settling in the pit of his stomach as she looked up at him from beneath her lashes, eyes hazed and lips parted in anticipation.

She wore the same look on her face now as she stood passively before him. Her submissive demeanour was all pretence—he knew that—but he still took the belt from her, letting it slide slowly through her grasp while he stepped forward as she backed up until the table put a stop to her retreat. Cullen planted his hands down firmly on either side of her, the varnished wood smooth beneath his palms as he lent into her, his lips brushing along the line of her jaw and up to her ear.

“Not exactly the most appropriate place." He felt the rise of her cheek against his own as she smiled and the tremble of her body when she whispered, “please.” Cullen sighed; Laurel knew that he would not say no.


End file.
